


Arborvitae

by Cherry101



Series: Writer's Society Prompts [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, F/M, Flowers, Hanahaki AU, M/M, Major Illness, Sorry Not Sorry, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, The OtaYuri is onesided, Unrequited Love, You know how this goes, Yuri and Viktor are brothers and nobody can tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 12:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11646417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry101/pseuds/Cherry101
Summary: The first time Yuri throws up flowers, he is fourteen, and he is alone in a Sochi hotel room.The next time he coughs up petals, he's seventeen, and Otabek is staying at his house.





	Arborvitae

**Author's Note:**

> Cherry here! This was written for the Ghostwriters on the YOI amino, with the prompt of Hanahaki. Not as angsty as it could've been... And I selfishly indulged myself in adding Viktor/Yuri friendship, because WHY NOT.
> 
> So enjoy! Comment! Please! Your feedback means the world to me!

The first time Yuri throws up flowers, he is fourteen, and he is alone in a Sochi hotel room.

 

It isn't  _ fair. _

 

The coughing fits had been fairly prevalent in the past several weeks - ever since finding out that one of the GPF finalists shared a name with him. Yuri hadn't taken notice - pushing it off as allergies.

 

It  _ wasn't  _ allergies. 

 

_ Ha. I know that now.  _ Yuri thinks dryly as he stands over a sink, hacking up a lung.

 

His vision blurs, his lungs ache, his throat feels bloody and raw. His hands grip the porcelain of the sink so tight they're turning white from the pressure. 

 

It's bad enough that his legs are still shaky from the dance-off. They quiver now, and it's all he can do to prevent himself from falling to his knees.

 

Finally, the itch in his throat and lungs subsides, and Yuri sucks in air greedily, not really wanting to look down.

 

He does, anyways. 

 

The sink is spattered with droplets of blood, and flecked with pale purple petals. 

 

Yuri groans. 

 

He knows what this means. 

 

With Hanahaki, there's only three options - confess your love and hope that your crush loves you in return( _ he doesn't _ ), get the surgery and forget( _ I don't want to do that) _ , or… death.

 

...He doesn't really have much of a choice. 

 

The next day, after traveling to Moscow for a short break, he confesses his disease to his grandfather. His grandfather pushes him to go to the hospital.

 

So Yuri goes. He goes, and he gets the surgery. Yuuri Katsuki - gone. 

 

Yuuri doesn't stay  _ gone,  _ of course - Yuri meets him again. But he doesn't remember ever feeling anything towards the Japanese skater. 

 

The next time he coughs up petals, he's seventeen, and Otabek is staying at his house. 

 

It's his birthday - he only just turned seventeen - and, as a gift, his friend had decided to fly to Russia, bringing a personalized mixtape and a small stuffed leopard-printed bear.

 

Yuri appreciates the gift, he does.

 

Apparently, he appreciates it enough to be vomiting  _ flowers at two in the f*cking morning!  _

 

In a sense of deja vu, he grips the counter of his bathroom, coughing and sputtering until his throat bleeds, aching and raw.

 

The flowers that come up are painted in hues of pink and purple and red.

 

_ Arborvitae,  _ Yuri's brain supplies, and Yuri scowls. 

 

Arborvitae, which have the meaning of unchanging friendship. 

 

It's no secret that the victim of Hanahaki will cough up flowers with meaning. 

 

And if Yuri’s flowers mean  _ unchanging friendship… _

 

Then Yuri is never,  _ ever  _ going to receive the affection he needs to get over the disease. 

 

_ Ever.  _

 

He’ll sure as hell try, though.

 

He spends the next few days with Otabek, training with him, laughing with him, saying that his coughs are merely allergies, nothing more. 

 

And oh, by the end of it, he  _ wishes  _ he had had the guts to actually confess his love to his best friend.

 

Because Otabek leaves Russia with a girlfriend. 

 

Mila. 

 

On any other occasion, if it were  _ anybody else,  _ Yuri would be happy for his not-sister. He would celebrate a new relationship with her, as he had done with countless others she had dated.

 

But Otabek? 

 

...no.

 

_ She’ll get tired of him,  _ Yuri tells himself, standing over his sink as he feels the itch in his throat,  _ They'll tire, and then I can swoop in and tell Otabek how I feel. _

 

He doesn't have that kind of time, though. 

 

The next few weeks are spent feigning illness, dodging questions as he throws up more and more flower petals and, eventually, whole flowers.

 

Each time, he's faced with the brightness of the arborvitae - a reminder that the one he's literally dying for will never return his feelings. 

 

Yuri knows he should get the surgery. It will remove all his feelings of love for Otabek, but he will live. 

 

_ Is it really living, though, to forget the one I like?  _

 

No. 

 

It's not.

 

Finally, Viktor catches him throwing up flowers in the rink’s locker room. The elder man holds Yuri’s hair out of his face, rubbing his back soothingly.

 

“Why didn't you tell us?” He asks softly, but Yuri doesn't answer.

 

“Are you going to get the surgery?” 

 

Yuri looks up at his former mentor and idol.

 

He makes a choice, right then.

 

“No.” 

 

Viktor frowns, and he pulls Yuri into an embrace, soft and warm.

 

“I won't pretend to understand why,” He murmurs into Yuri’s ear, still softly rubbing his back, “I do not want to see you go.” 

 

Yuri allows his eyes to close, and he tentatively hugs Viktor back, relishing in the warmth while he can.

 

“I won't tell.” The silver-haired man promises, and Yuri offers a smile as wordless thanks.

 

His health deteriorates after that. 

 

Just like he promised, Viktor doesn't give a reason as to why Yuri can no longer skate - just says that the younger is sick and leaves it at that. 

 

He must tell people not to come visit - because the only visitor Yuri ever receives, those last days, is Viktor. Not even Yuuri comes. 

 

Yuri’s days are spent coughing and coughing, so hard he faints most of the time, and his bed is covered with flecks of blood and dozens of arborvitaes.

 

Viktor sits with him, the last day. 

 

“I love you, Yura. You know that, right?” He asks, lightly stroking Yuri’s oily mess of hair, soft eyes concerned.

 

Yuri only nods, not trusting himself to speak. These days, his throat burns, and even when he does speak, it's with a raspy voice, hoarse and dry.

 

Viktor hums thoughtfully, pressing his lips to Yuri’s forehead, “Can you tell me something though, little kitten?” 

 

Yuri swallows, and he nods again.

 

“Who?” 

 

Yuri should've expected the question. After all, that's what everybody wants to know when their friend has Hanahaki - who caused it? 

 

But it's Viktor. And Viktor has, quite surprisingly, been nothing but a source of comfort, a friend, a  _ brother  _ to him this entire time.

 

“Beka.” Is all Yuri can offer, the vibrations sparking another series of violent coughing. 

 

“That's what I thought.” Viktor smiles sadly.

 

When the coughing fit stops, Yuri feels… almost light-headed. Dizzy. His lungs ache for release, and he can feel that release coming, his vision fraying around the edges.

 

“Vitya?” He finds himself asking tiredly, the diminutive slipping out easier than his actual name.

 

“Yes,  _ Yuratchka? _ ” 

 

“Can… can you sing something?” 

 

Viktor's hand tenses in Yuri’s hair before he sighs, continuing his ministrations, “Of course.” 

 

He starts softly singing a Russian lullaby, the words blurring together as Yuri feels his consciousness fade. He tries to focus on the sound of Viktor's baritone voice, but it slips out of his grasp. 

 

“Goodnight, little kitten,” Is the last thing he hears.

  
  
  
  



End file.
